Are not our enemies.
The peaks get higher
But our legs get stronger,
The air gets thinner
But our lungs learn to do more with less,
The path gets mundane
Compelling our eyes upwards to the stars
In search of inspiration.
The path is good because it is hard
Because our feet were made for walking
Our sinews are bolstered by resistance
And our strength is forged in affliction.
In a world of safetyism
Where our definitions of threats
Are rapidly expanding
It is easy to imagine all difficulty
As being only oppressive.
It is not.
It is our means of acquiring
And ready hands.
The hills we climb
Are not our enemies
They are our path
To our greatest selves.